


Reluctant Alliance

by Mortrix



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Aftermath of Civil War, Awkward Flirting, F/M, Jealousy, Just Plain Awkward, Loss of Virginity, Marriage Proposal, Nightningales, Political Alliances, Political Intrigue, Politics, Romance, Skyrim Civil War, Thieves Guild, Ulfric is High King, Virginity, awkward moments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2018-08-31 19:19:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8590510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mortrix/pseuds/Mortrix
Summary: Ulfric Stormcloak is High King of Skyrim but there's a lot to be done before the Empire and Thalmor strike back. He must solidify his rule and promote kinship and stability throughout Skyrim. He has a plan and knows the perfect woman for the job. She has a difference of opinion.





	1. The Proposition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to my fanfiction inspired and motivated by frustration at how the game forces you to deal with the civil war questline and disappointment at where it leaves off.
> 
> Be gentle it's my first time writing a fanfiction. Not dishonest, gentle.

"Marriage?" Accalia asked sardonically.

 

Ulfric just stared, with a slight smile, in reply. She couldn’t help but look around for support in her disbelief.  A guardsmen cleared his throat but immediately straightened. His expression obscured by his ghastly helmet. Her eyes darted back to Ulfric, who didn’t break. This had to be a joke.

 

“I didn’t take you for a humorous man.” She said with a scoff.

 

“I’m not.” His voice was low and serious. She smiled and shook her head, still waiting for the punchline. When none came and the silence began to feel thick, her smile faded.

 

“You’re not serious.”

 

“I am in earnest.” He said simply. She was immediately disarmed and she felt her face flush at the chagrin.

 

“Well that’s- It’s not… Surely this is a joke.” The words stumbled about in her exasperated mouth.

 

“I _am_ in _earnest._ ” He repeated, somewhat crestfallen.

 

The situation was only becoming incommodious and the silence more pointed. His guileless manner was all the more vexing and she wanted nothing more than for this situation to end, preferably as a joke. Though it was looking more and more like she’d have to end it herself, delicately. Not her forte.

 

"Look.” She began trying to regain some confidence, “I might have helped get you here but I have no intention on staying here myself.” He didn’t respond and she frowned.

 

“I have my own business to attend to. So if you’ll excuse me.” She turned to leave.

“Stop.” Ulfric’s voice echoed harshly through the hall.

 

She tried not to visibly flinch, her face hot. Her armor and cloak were no protection from feeling his stare on her back. She took a deep breath trying to alleviate some of the odd tension building within her.

 

“I believe you gave me permission to ‘roam’ as I will. Am I to understand that you’re now revoking that hard-earned privilege?” Accalia waited a moment for a response and when none came she continued walking to the door.

 

"Stop." It was soft and pleading this time.

 

She felt herself halt and wondered why she held fast. Was it magic or her own sense of curiosity keeping her there?

 

"We don't have to talk like this. So coldly." He stood up and motioned toward the war room "Please."

 

She sighed and brushed some honey-colored hair out of her face and walked into the war room begrudgingly.  There at the war table was Galmar. She rolled her eyes at the sight of him looking over the map with feigned interest. He looked up at her and she sneered back at him, arm folded. Perhaps this was all his fault. No. She realized, Ulfric makes his own decisions. Galmar most likely opposed his foolish choice of bride, if his returned glare was any indication.

 

Ulfric walked past her and held the door open, expectantly.

 

"Fine! Let's just get this over with." She stomped toward doorway.

 

"Aye." he whispered as she passed him and walked up the flight of stairs into the narrow, stone hallway.

 

She stormed down the hall for a bit before she realized that she didn’t know where she was going. The flush in her cheeks returned as she stopped and looked back at Ulfric as though she was offended by something. He looked confused for a moment, but when she pressed against the wall with a huff he cleared his throat and walked past her.

 

“This way.” he said in a low tone. Apparently, the situation was awkward for him as well. The sympathy that tried to spring up inside her was quickly quashed by her annoyance.

 

Ulfric led her to the end of the hall and up some stairs then held the door open for her once more. She glanced at him warily and stepped into the room. It was brightly lit due to windows high up in the center of the roof; perfectly highlighting a large bed on a raised platform. She almost turned around and ran when she realized it was _his_ bedroom.

 

"Please sit." His voice startled her and she snapped her head to look at him with incensed surprise. He noticed her hesitation and pointed to two chairs near the door. "You can trust me."

 

She didn't trust anyone; not anymore. Her teeth gritted and tried to think of Mercer Frey to keep her desire to run away at bay. Slowly and deliberately she took the seat closest to the door. She tried to remain calm and seem at ease but the sight of the bed in front of her was inciting panic.

 

"Why?" Accalia blurted before he took his seat.

 

"What?" Ulfric's brow creased with confusion as he sat next to her.

 

"Why do _you_ want to marry _me_?" She asked more specifically but with a bit more venom in her tone.

 

"There are quite a few reasons." He began, "You are capable, well liked, well connected." He leaned back in his chair much as he would on his throne. "A true daughter of Skyrim. A true Nord."

 

“Oh yes. Queen Stormblade.” She scoffed and rolled her eyes.  Clearly this was just another recruitment bit. If he was going to act like this was just a military promotion she wasn’t going to deign his proposal as anything more than a joke.

 

“You've never let me down. You are loyal and strong.” He ignored her sarcasm.  
  
He was asking her to completely change her life for him and he couldn’t even give a reason that didn’t sound like he was appraising a horse. It seems that romance was lost on the High King. Even if his sense of romance was non-existent, it really felt like he was talking about someone else. She was a sarcastic, willful, critical and disorderly soldier. Her penchant for magic and becoming a nightingale wasn’t stacking up her score for being a good citizen of Skyrim; let alone a “True Nord.”

 

"You are beautiful." He stunned her with his change in tone. His voice was more husky now, as though he were attempting to seduce her. "Golden hair and eyes that seem to change every time I see them."

 

She was taken aback. He _had_ to be talking about someone else now. She was not attractive, it had been pointed out to her many times, even by family members. There were some rather unfortunate scars on her face. One making a jagged line over her right eye and cheek and the other pulling the left corner of her mouth into a constant half smile. She supposed the other features of her appearance were below average. That was clearly apparent by the complete dismissal she received from men on a daily basis.  

 

At inns and taverns, other women, even those who were rather homely received a lot of attention. Men bought them drinks, clumsily tried to woo them and utterly ignored her. She’d heard men talk about how after a few rounds even the ugliest maids looked irresistible and how they’d ended up in “difficult” situations the next morning. No one had ever even attempted to talk to her, drunk or sober. Not that she’d give a smelly drunk the time of day, even if they did try.

 

Casual encounters aside whenever she had feelings for someone they'd been kind enough to remind her that she was not pleasant to behold and off they’d go with someone she envied the look of. If Ulfric was giving her consequence, there was an ulterior motive.

 

"No. You want me because I'm dovahkiin." She found the cold reasoning she wish for. To her surprise it wasn’t comforting. She wasn't pretty, let alone beautiful. If she was so 'well-liked' why was she constantly in some sort of danger? For every good connection she had there was a dubious one to negate it. She'd never given her loyalty wholly or blindly. It was always established on the maintenance of her good graces; never sincerely ironclad. True she'd never let him down before now. However, if that was all you needed for a marriage she'd have been married long ago.

 

He sighed and shook his head, wearily. She couldn't blame him for his pragmatic attempt at wooing her, or even his flattering lies. She couldn't even blame him for seeking out a loveless, but politically and religiously effective marriage. He was destined to such, as most nobility were. For them it was a duty, not a privilege. Just another thing that had to be put up with.

 

"Yes, that _also_ highly recommends you for marriage." he said frustrated. "What are your reservations for marrying _me_. Perhaps that's a good place for us to start."

 

Negotiation. _Now_ he was open to negotiation. He wasn’t willing to negotiate over something as important as starting a war that cost many of the lives of so called "True Nords" he was supposedly trying to protect, but he was willing to negotiate to get an unsuitable bride. She smirked at the irony.

 

"As I've already said, I have my own destiny to fulfill."

 

"Perhaps this is part of your destiny?" He suggested hopefully.

 

“Perhaps I’m meant to be a queen?” Accalia chuckled. “Isn’t that rather pompous of me. Nearly wrongfully executed wretch to High Queen Dragonborn…”

 

She looked over at Ulfric who was smiling, like getting her to at least consider marriage meant he was winning.

 

“I-It doesn’t matter anyway. I’d be a terrible queen.” Accalia’s eye narrowed and she looked away.

 

“I don’t see how.”

 

“You can’t see the obvious conflicts?” she frowned at his willful denial in the face of unmistakable reason.

 

"Why does it have to conflict with anything?" He gripped the arms of his chair.

 

"I would have to leave quite often, perhaps without warning. I wouldn't be able to attend to all the 'duties' of a wife, as you please. I’m not a noble. I’m not delicate or sensitive. I'd endanger myself frequently, often without meaning to." She was frank, listing the reason off on her fingers.

 

I wouldn't be a good mother and I don’t look like a queen, she kept those thoughts to herself.

 

"Perhaps that can be resolved more simply than you believe." His voice was almost cheerful as though he knew a secret she didn’t.

 

"Only if you intend to change me completely and hold me here against my will like a prisoner." Accalia's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

 

"I would be a fool to attempt it. I doubt my entire guard could hold you here without your good will." He chuckled and she couldn't help but smile a bit.

 

“I doubt they’d even notice me leave.” She laughed a bit louder than she wanted and he raised an eyebrow. She cleared her throat and looked at the bed once again. Then felt the heat return to her cheeks.

 

"Do you have any other reservations? Is there another that you have pledged your heart to?"

 

"No... but... It's not that, really." She began to stammer as her thoughts rushed around, making the crimson worse. She began to fiddle with the end of one of her braids nervously. How could she explain?

 

Despite all that was already mentioned there was still the more pressing issue of her virginity. Give her bandits, mages, wars or dragons! Anything but romance. Her inexperience had led her to fear it but she wanted to be loved, just like any sane person did. Yet it fell out of the purview of her control and skill set. It required a finesse and understanding she lacked. Unlike the other skills she'd acquired, the art and practice of love required willing participants, something in very short supply.  And unlike other encounters that demanded participation, she couldn’t just stab them to death and still be victorious. The fragility inherent in the amorous relationships she’d witness didn’t help her fears. It seemed that one wrong word or misunderstanding and the whole thing would crumble apart and she’d be helpless to stop it.

 

Not to mention juvenile fears like, "Will I be good at kissing?" swam through her thoughts still. Ulfric surely didn't understand her unseasoned state. Most people were surprised when they discovered how untouched she was. She never understood why. Surely they weren't blind, they could see her face, and the life of a dragonborn didn't lead to many opportunities for love. Sure she could attempt to seduce the massive amounts of bandits, mages, imperial soldiers or even the Thalmor. She’d be the first to admit that she’d never tried it but it seemed rather misguided somehow.

 

"Are you alright?" His thrumming voice made her swallow hard, reminding her of the specific details of what he wanted.

 

He wanted to marry her, which of course implied that they'd be physically intimate. The idea was so alien and disarming, but enticing all the same. If it were possible, more warmth filled her cheeks. She'd be expected to bear him an heir or two. She'd be required to give him children.

 

Children... The word stuck there in her mind. Children with Ulfric. She swallowed the lump in her throat and turned away from him.

 

"What's the matter?" He asked kindly.

 

Her armor, though it was light, felt heavy and tight suddenly. The air seemed to leave the room and she wanted to leave with it. She couldn't talk about something so strange, awkward and daunting with a man who hadn't shown any affection or interest in her since they met and now, suddenly was throwing her world into complete chaos.

 

"Please, you can tell me." His tone was impossibly kind. This surely wasn't the man that had taken Skyrim. Though it seemed to be the man who wanted to take her.

 

Her mind raced looking for another reason, anything but the truth. Anything but the humiliating truth that she was a fretting virgin who was terrified of not being so anymore. She, the grand and powerful Dovahkiin, a naive and trembling innocent.

 

"I need some time to think about this... This..."

 

"Proposal?" he suggested. She thought she could see steam coming off her face. She wanted to leave.

 

"Proposition." She corrected. Then she stood up, her hand feigning to rub her temple but really to block Ulfric from looking her in the eye.  She walked to the door and pulled on the handle.

 

Hands, reaching around from behind, pressed the door closed. She released the handle and whipped around to see that Ulfric was stopping her. He was moving in closer. Accalia backed away but his warm fingers wrapped around her waist, halting her retreat.

 

She looked away from him trying to hide the truth that was surely written on her face. However, her eyes descended on the bed behind him, flooded in light. Once again she remembered where she was. His bedroom. She'd realized it before, of course, but that was before. That was when he wasn't inches away with his strong arms pulling her closer.

 

This was a trap. She’d fallen for a trap.

 

"You don't understand." He whispered in her ear and pressed his lips on her jawline.

 

She felt her body sear with foreign sensations.  He turned her chin, gently, to face him and he looked into her eyes intently. She wanted to run, to look away but part of her felt like she had to return the stare, to prove her bravery. Or something, like that. She was finding it harder and harder to think clearly.

 

He guided her lips to meet his and pressed his mouth on hers. She felt herself melting into a boneless mass supported only by his grip.

 

She had wondered what this would feel like. Analysis had made her conclude that kissing must be overrated. Lips touching lips was just like any skin touching skin. No more sensational than a bare handshake. How could it feel like anything special? How wrong she was. She felt like she had been hit by a very pleasant lightning spell. Sparks of intense sensation engulfed her and her heartbeat throbbed in her throat.

 

Her eyes had closed and she didn't notice how much she was contributing to the kiss. His fingers wrapped around her head and he brushed his thumb on her scarred cheek, lightly comforting her. Her head felt light, anchored only by the roughness about his cheeks but even that was strangely delightful and she found herself almost falling backward when he pulled away.

 

Her mouth was frozen in the position of the kiss and her eyes were half-lidded and dark with the lingering rush of senses. He smiled at her and pulled her in for another kiss. This time he prodded her lips with his fiery tongue. She jumped at the new sensation and pulled back, pushing on his firm chest and wondering how her hand had gotten there without her permission. She whipped it away horrified by its boldness and she once again tugged on the door handle.

 

Her wrist was caught this time. He pressed her into the cold door, bringing his body against her own. He kissed the fingertips of her trapped hand, with a gentle smoothness. Panic rose in her, her heart pounded in her ears. Part of her was so dissatisfied with being alone, she wanted this, to be touched and loved by someone. Anyone.  The sensible part warned her that he didn't love her, he wanted to cage her for her inborn novelty. He wanted her like a trophy or prize. He didn’t respect her, he was just converting his effective, but no longer necessary war machine into a hideous, publicity campaign.

 

"What am I doing?" She whispered out loud.

 

Ulfric chortled and tilted his head to kiss her again. She pushed him back, mouth agape trying to figure out what to say.

 

"I just wanted you to understand." He whispered. She hummed nervously in response, feeling like she was going to explode.

 

"I... Um... I have to go." She said quietly, beseeching.

 

He sighed and lifted her hand from his hard, muscular chest, and she wondered how it got there again. He kissed her fingers lightly again, then released her, pulling away far enough for her to open the door.

 

"I'll await your decision then, my lady."

 

She blushed again and fumbled with the door almost throwing it open and then unintentionally slamming it closed. She flinched at the loud echo. As she walked she felt lightheaded. A startled guard gave her a strange look when she almost stumbled into a wall then almost stumbled into him.

A whispered, “Sorry.” was all she managed before she staggered down the staircase back to the war room. There was Galmar who looked up at her and smiled. Immediately self-conscious she straightened her armor and some loose strands of hair and tried to walk out with dignity.

 

“Don’t say a word. Not one word.” He couldn’t hear her mental threat but she hoped he could feel it.

 

“The conversation got a bit heavy then?” He teased in his gruff voice.

 

Doing her best to ignore her red face, she gave him the best glare she could manage before exiting into the hall. She had to get away. And if she had her choice, never come back.

 

“There’s no need to be angry! I’m sure you both liked it!” Galmar guffawed. A few of the guards in the hall sniggered as well.

 

Normally she’d beat them all to a bloody pulp. She’d done worse for less offense. But she wanted nothing more than to escape. Leave it all behind. Pretend it never happened. The laughter shamed her. More proof that she was unworthy of affection, especially not the affection of a king; and they all knew it.

  
She picked up her pace, trying not to break out in a run until she felt the sting of the chilly, fresh air on her hot cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, thanks for sticking with it this far, hopefully you aren't retching your guts out. Like I said, I'm a noob-ish writer so I wouldn't doubt that I've made tons of mistakes. Although I did read through it once or twice to do corrections. I have attention issues so it's very VERY possible I've missed a bunch of stuff.
> 
> I've probably picked the worst time to start posting this because of how busy I am for the holidays. But no one will probably read it sooooo it ends up being a moot point anyway. 
> 
> If, against all odds, I do notice some interest I'll raise the priority of adding chapters.
> 
> Accalia is weird, by the way, I based her half-way between my best friend and my sister. We'll see how that goes. 
> 
> I don't really like all the stereotypes I see in fanfiction. The beautiful heroine who doesn't know she's beautiful, particularly. Or worst yet, the super beautiful girl who gets all the guys and makes her own conflict because she can't choose, but then the choice gets made for her. I think I just described the plot of Twilight... ^_^; I can't related to that. So I made Accalia justifiably ugly. She doesn't just think she's not attractive, she's been told that her whole life by many different people. That feels more real and relatable to me. Maybe that makes me a sad wretched person...
> 
> Hopefully that doesn't put you off. And if it does, please remember to be gentle. Fanfiction-writing virgin here.


	2. Good Taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Accalia acquaints Teldryn Sero with Ulfric's request.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the extreme delay and thank you for your extreme patience. I don't want to give excuses for my untimely updating (honestly there is no good excuse for delay of that length), but I will give an explanation. The month or two after I started this fic I fell pretty seriously ill. After I recovered, a major plumbing issue made it necessary to extensively renovate my house. Living and working through a reno has been very difficult, physically, mentally and emotionally. I found when I had the time to write I lacked the motivation and only wanted to sleep.
> 
> Thank you for the interest and support you've given me (even if you don't care to continue reading). The renovation is still happening but we're in the finishing stages and I feel like I"m in a better mental state now. While I can't say how frequently I'll be able to update, I'll do my best to make it sooner than once a year.

Candlehearth was rife with patrons but the bar was empty. When she entered the tavern, Accalia sat in one of the empty stools and waited for Elda to fill her a mug of warm mead.

 

“Are you alright?” She asked. Accalia, whose face was already buried in the mug. She held up a finger. She finished her draught and began coughing having swallowed the last bit wrong.

 

“I’m… fine.” She squeaked out a hesitant reply. “I’ll rent a room and could you send another mug to it please?”

 

“You’ve already rented the room for the night.” Elda raised a judgemental eyebrow.

 

“I did?” Accalia asked, then she remembered she hadn’t come to Windhelm alone. She stood up and leered down the hallway with a concerned look.

 

“Of course you did. First door on the left.” Elda refilled her mug. “Do you want me to bring another for your friend then?”

 

“I knew it.” 

 

Without answering Elda she went to the aforementioned door and roughly shoved it open. It hit the wall with a crack. There was Teldryn, mask off, popping a few snowberries into his mouth sitting on the bed with his feet propped up on a chest.

 

“I was wondering when you’d get here.” He said smugly with a wicked smile.

 

“I wanted you to wait for me back at camp.” She wasn’t in the mood for his sarcasm, not when there was so much on her mind.

 

“Believe me, I’ve had enough of Windhelm to last a lifetime. But a summons from the High King… The curiosity was too pressing to ignore.” He flicked a snowberry into the air and caught it with his teeth. He held his arms out like he was waiting for applause. When none came he shrugged and propped his hands behind his head.

 

“Where’s Onyx?” Her teeth grit in frustration. Admittedly she didn’t understand why she was so upset.

 

“Relax. He’s been properly stabled. I’m not a completely selfish brute.” He frowned and stood up.

 

“Teldryn… It’s not the time-”

 

“Excuse me.” Elda’s voice came from behind Accalia and she realized the door was still open. “Here’s the drinks you ordered.”

 

“Splendid. And here I was beginning to think that you were upset with me.” Teldryn swept up the tray with two mugs of mead on it tossing a few gold to the tavern owner who stared at him with a look of shocked indignance. She clearly hadn’t see him without his mask when he booked the room. He thanked her and shut the door. The woman looked like she was about to say something offensive.

 

Teldryn handed Accalia a mug and raised his own toward her. She just stared at the liquid inside and swirled it around a bit before setting it on a table nearby and slumping on to the bed with a weary expression.

 

“What’s wrong?

 

She didn’t know. Well, that wasn’t quite true. Everything was completely different now. She made a frustrated groan and fell backward wrapping her cloak tightly around her.

 

“That good eh?” Teldryn took a swig of mead and cleared his throat. “We’ll have to enjoy this round, the next will have spit, or worse in it.”

 

She didn’t respond.

 

“Then again, spit might improve the flavor.”

 

He waited for Accalia to laugh. When she didn’t, he frowned; realizing it was serious. Setting his mug aside, he sat on the chair he’ll pulled next to the bed.

 

“Did our goodly king force you into a vow of silence?” He couldn’t help but remain jovial or at least sarcastic. It wasn’t that he believed her upset trivial, indeed he was very concerned.

 

“He may as well have.”

 

_Good. She’s talking._

“Did he ask you to win another war for him? I told you, when you give children whatever they want they end up dreadfully spoiled.” Teldryn raised his mug once more and took a sip.

 

“He proposed.”

 

The mead in his mouth shot back into his mug with a snort. A shocked grimace on his face.

 

“He what?”

 

She pulled her cloak over her head to hide her shame.

“I’m sorry did you say he proposed?” Teldryn’s ruddy eyes shone with worry he placed a hand on her arm to coax her to be more garrulous.

 

“Yes!” She suddenly exploded from her woolen cocoon like a hellish butterfly, crimson kissing her cheeks. “Go on! Let’s hear it!” There was an audible pain in her voice. “Tell me how ridiculous it is! Tell me how blind Ulfric must be!”

 

_Tell me how I don’t deserve anyone, let alone the High King._

 

Silence fell between them and Teldryn merely watched as tears filled her eyes. There was a fracture there, it was an alarming realization, as before this moment he could have sworn she was made of steel. Looking away he found himself at a loss for words, something that rarely happened to him, an elf who prided himself on the silver wit of his tongue.

 

“Say something.” She whispered.

 

 _You always have something to say._ His silence scared her.

 

“What did you tell him?” It was a simple question and he didn’t show the dread he felt about her possible answer.

 

She exhaled, tears gone with the edge of her cloak. Letting her emotions lash out at Teldryn had been impolitic and unfair. The confused, overwhelming, and frustrated ire splintering through her heart belonged to others, not him.

 

“I told him I’d think about it.” Clearing her throat, she gave him an uncertain sideways glance.

 

Teldryn burst out laughing; the heartiness of which banished any tension between them.

 

“Am I to understand that you told the High King of Skyrim, the mighty and formidable Ulfric Stormcloak, that you’d think it over?” He wiped merry tears from the corners of his eyes. “I would have paid good gold to see that.”

 

Accalia felt her lips curl into a grin. Teldryn had a way of making all the things she worried over feel small and easy. He was a sardonic bastard, it was one of her favorite things about him.

 

“In all seriousness. What are you going to do?” A seriously tone slowly fell over him.

 

“I gave running away some serious consideration.” She winced as she said it out loud, realizing that a woman who ran toward dragons shouldn’t run away from anything lesser.

 

“Running?” Skeptical, Teldryn leaned forward, pressing his arms to his knees. “That’s a miserable joke. You can do better.”

 

“I wish I was joking.”

 

“It’d be easier to just tell him no. Running would just make him hunt you down.”

 

“He wouldn’t hunt me. This is just a thoughtless act. He’d give up and find someone who is actually suitable.” She jumped when Teldryn gripped her chin gently and made her look him in the face.

 

“Ulfric is many things I don’t approve of. But I won’t make the mistake of thinking he ‘acts thoughtlessly’ or just ‘gives up’ on anything he wants the moment it becomes problematic.” Teldryn’s fingers were cold and his expression worrisome. Accalia’s brow furrowed and the frustration within her heart grew.

 

“You can’t hide from this, Nightingale.” The sound of his voice was almost troubled, sad. “Just refuse the proposal.”

He was right and wrong. She knew, deep down, that if Ulfric lost anything he thought belonged to him, he’d chase it down until it was brought back or found. Even if it was obsolete or worthless. She couldn’t just refuse him either. Every time she thought about it she’d remember the kiss. She touched her lips thoughtfully. Was it just because she worried she’d never see another proposal in her life? Was a loveless marriage her only chance at any sort of relationship? It felt wrong to throw away something she’d valued so highly. Perhaps, she just needed time to understand what she wanted and what he wanted from her.

 

Teldryn watched as she touched her lips provocatively and felt something in his heart sink to his stomach. Her eyes glinted with favorable thoughts. Something had happened to make what should be an effortless refusal into something complex. His own feelings were also complicated. Why did he worry about her accepting so much?

 

Perhaps it was because he’d never had a client like her before and was reluctant to end their contract. She was a strange woman. A Nord but tolerant. A Stormcloak but only because she hated the Thalmor. She was rugged but intelligent. A warrior who delighted in using magic, much like himself. Powerful but humble. She was truly a walking contradiction. Maybe it was because he’d seen so many new places following her around. He’d never liked staying in one place too long and he’d seen most of Skyrim at her bidding. Maybe it was that he found himself able to kill dragons when she was at his side. He’d never imagined he’d end up fighting together with a fulfilled prophecy and living legend rolled into one. The dragonborn had become much more than real for him, she’d become a true friend.

 

All of that was at risk of evaporating if she married Ulfric. He hadn’t brought himself to care one way or another about the man. But now, under the threat of returning to Solstheim and the ash spawn alone, he was very tempted to punch him in the face.

 

 _She’s mine_.

 

The thought was unbidden and frightening. He dismissed it away, shamefully. She didn’t belong to any man. Though he realized he had been taking advantage of and enjoying that arrangement for a long time now. He'd taken for granted that no other men seemed to notice the aspects of Accalia that made her so much more than worthwhile. Or maybe they'd noticed but were too intimidated. She did come off as rather hazardous to one's health. He wished that Ulfric had been a cowardly man.

 

“If you feel like you can’t say no, then say yes.” The words felt like poison in his mouth. Her eyes searched his own in a manner that made him wish his mask was still on. “Obviously you must feel something for the man if you aren’t outright denying him.”

 

It felt like a punch in the face for the both of them.

 

“It’s not that simple. I don’t know what I feel. Felt.” She stood up and leaned against the table, her hazel eyes pools of turmoil.

 

“What happened between you?” The question plagued him, but he didn’t know if he wanted to hear it. She’d always complained about Ulfric before. She called him a racist prig after the battle of Whiterun, and countless other insults since then. What could have taken her from open mockery to thoughts of marriage? Curiosity would be his undoing.

 

“Nothing.” She said too quickly, pink nipping her face.

 

Something had happened between them. Something horrendously romantic. He felt ill and distressed. He wouldn’t push to find out specifics, not wanting to know what Ulfric had done with her. If a hardened woman like Accalia was blushing from the mere memory, he could guess it wasn’t wholly chaste.

 

_Damn him._

 

“What’s the plan, Boss?” He said a little too casually, changing the subject and leaning back in the chair, looking up at her with a fake smile.

 

“I’m not sure. Believe it or not running is still a contender.” It was half mirthful and half honest.

 

 _I’ll take it._ He thought with a smirk. _I’ll take whatever you give me._

 

“Until then, we have mead to drink. Terrible mead, but then again _you_ did the ordering.” He picked up their mugs and placed hers in her hand.

 

“Are you saying that I have bad taste?” Her nose wrinkled, the scar on her mouth making her look gruesomely cheerful.

 

“Take a drink and tell me what you think.” He instructed, taking another swig. She also imbibed the strangely bitter drink.

 

“You’re right. I have absolutely dreadful taste.” She laughed wondering why she didn’t notice how bad it tasted before.

 

Teldryn smiled sadly behind his mug.

 

  _Only when it comes to men._

 

* * *

 

 

“That could have gone better.” Ulfric whispered as he leaned against the iron door of his war room.

“She didn’t say yes?” Galmar leaned over the table, his fists grinding into the edges of the war map. His tone didn’t hide his surprise.

 

“She didn’t say no, either.” Ulfric rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

 

“The way that she left. She looked-”

 

“Nothing happened, Galmar.” His face remained flat and expressionless.

 

Galmar stood upright and eyed Ulfric suspiciously.

 

“ _Something_ happened. I saw the way she looked when she left here.” He betrayed a hint of annoyance. “Like she’d just had a tumble and not the entirely combative or accidental sort.”

 

“Do I have to disclose all the details of my personal life to you? You should trust your High King.” He was admitting that what happened between them was likely less than innocent, but he hoped Galmar wouldn’t notice.

 

“Aye, I do. I’m just not sure about this course of action. If you explained-”

 

“I have explained. Many times.” Ulfric pushed away from the door and walked into the throne room.

 

“You have. But you haven’t explained why you’ve settled on her of all maids. There are more suitable wenches. By Sovngarde, even Elisif would be a better choice of wife; not to mention less dangerous and a might easier to look at.”

 

“Galmar.” Ulfric warned.

 

 “Accalia’s a rough woman, she might not favor men at all.”

 

“Galmar.”

 

“No one has seen her so much as flutter an eyelash at a man. Let alone be willing to marry one.”

 

“That’s enough!” Ulfric’s tone was chilling. “I have chosen and now she must choose. That will be sufficient for you.”

 

“Yes, my King.” Walking back to the war room, Galmar looked resentful at the very least. He didn’t take well to being chastised, dismissed or silenced. Ulfric could tell this ‘discussion’ wasn’t over. Nevertheless, he would not entertain such uncharitable thoughts about someone who had probably done more to secure their current position of triumph than they had.

 

Ulfric sighed heavily and sank onto his throne. He massaged his brow, the crown felt very heavy today. Things hadn’t gone to plan, to say the least. What did he expect?

 

 _That she would just say yes_.  He answered himself. _That she would just be like any other woman and greedily say yes to becoming a Queen_. She’d always surprised him in the past. She had always shown him that she was not just any woman. Accalia was exceptional. He felt like a fool.

 

Of course, if he could go back to just before she’d answered his summons, he’d have invited her to his private chambers from the start. Talked intimately… Idiot that he was, he’d thought she’d be dazzled by seeing him on the throne, a throne she’d help him get, a throne he’d hoped she’d want to share.

 

Still, he’d underestimated her from the start and he was apparently slow to learn from his mistakes. Yet time was beholden to no man, and it proved to be his worst enemy. He had precious little time to heal the damage he’d done with the war. Not just heal but improve. He had to mend the anger, solidify his rule, stabilize the country, rebuild the army, and handle the normal tasks of ruling in short order. He didn’t have much leeway to wait on her answer. It was a matter of days, no more than a week.

 

On top of all the normal worries that plagued him a new concern had cropped up after hearing how Accalia practically ran out of the palace red faced and indignant. What if she just kept running? She was astute. She might have realized that if she just ran off he wouldn’t be able to spare the resources or time to find her. The thought of having to choose someone else simply because of time constraints was unbearable.

 

Before she showed up in his life he’d accepted his fate. If he survived the war and was able to win it, he’d have to marry someone. He told himself he didn’t care who. The most politically advantageous wench was acceptable. When his change of opinion came he couldn’t tell. He just knew that only Accalia would do. He could stomach no other woman at his side.

 

 _No,_ he realized. _I’d send a whole army after her if she ran away._

 

He would accept no other situation but the face to face negation of his proposal or the acceptance of it. He wouldn’t allow her to escape into the shadows as she was wont to do. Not this time.

 

Perhaps he was overreacting when he assumed she’d run or reject him. Then again, perhaps she wanted to be properly pursued and romanced. He’d botched the proposal. She’d left thinking that he thought of her like a tool or weapon. Anything other than a desirable woman. She’d made that clear.

 

He observed that and kissed her to try and persuade her otherwise. She’d accepted his kiss, easing into it but when his excitement made him too bold, it awoke her sensibilities and she’d left. Accalia was proving too cautious, and suspicious for her own good. How could he get her to understand his feelings and to trust him; especially now when he’d attempted to skip over gaining her affection and showing his own from the start?  He’d have to figure this out, hopefully before she outright rejected him.

 

By the Nine, he felt weary. That wasn’t helping him much either. His sleep was restless. Not with worries or fears but with haunting and wicked dreams of her.  He’d wake up to find himself alone and it would be difficult to fall asleep again. Even now he could still feel the warmth from her lips on his own and the shape of her body pressing on his. It was going to be an especially long and maddening night. The lack of restful sleep was beginning to make him feel unhinged.

 

 _All hail Ulfric Stormcloak the Mad High King_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I doubt this chapter will feel like it was worth the wait. How could it? I hope I didn't ruin any interest you've had in the story. I've opted for correcting and making additions post-publishing, for the sake of timely updates. I probably could have had this chapter out over a year ago if I didn't have a complex about looking illiterate. So this is your heads up that things might change as I catch mistakes.
> 
> Thanks for reading this far. I really don't deserve this many readers...


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